Lovedrunk
by HigherMagic
Summary: There are demons and witches and sirens. Each of these things is, of course, different. Different Modus Operandi, different strengths and weaknesses and looks. Incubi are like a mix of those. Dean/Castiel.


**Title: **Lovedrunk  
><strong>Author:<strong> HigherMagic  
><strong>Rated:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Dean/Castiel  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Language, Porn, Sex, Porn...Language...Desperate!sex...Porn...dub-con that's not really...sneaky!Dean...Porn...did I mention Porn? xD  
>Written for the lovely, awesome, splendiferous <strong>earth_heart<strong> , who wanted good!Incubus!Dean/top!Castiel. Ohh, the things my mind came up with. *shivers* Also, everything in here describing Incubi is stuff I either made up/heard from semi-reliable sources and twisted to fit into the canon of the story I wanted to write. Anyone expecting accuracy in Incubus characteristics will be sorely disappointed.

Also written at night because I was going through an insomniac phase *shrugs*

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine. If only the boys were too xD

* * *

><p>There are demons and witches and sirens. Each of these things is, of course, different. Different <em>Modus Operandi,<em> different strengths and weaknesses and looks. Differences that can mean life or death if you think you're dealing with one and you end up with another.

Incubi are like a mix of those.

Devil's Traps won't trap them, but salt hurts them and you can exorcise them. They generally avoid iron but it doesn't burn them to touch, and they can't get killed by a blood-covered-bronze-knife or whatever the hell Castiel read hurts sirens. They don't poison a person during sex. They don't use incantations but they are capable of wielding powerful magic, mostly for defense and teleportation in tight spots and away from scenes of their crimes.

When they are hungry, they are weak, and have no strength above a human, and heal a lot more slowly than usual. They are capable of getting hurt through regular human means. Like, for instance, when a gun-happy Hunter corners one and puts several lead bullets in its chest.

Castiel had found Dean bleeding out in the back alley of a bar, where his friend and partner in crime had been to go feeding. Castiel knew about Dean – kind of had to – and it didn't bother him, as long as nobody was killed. Dean was to other Incubi what a mosquito was to a leech. A leech would happily suck you dry. A mosquito will only take a bite.

"Dean? Dean!" He wasn't moving, his eyelids were fluttering in response to his name but that was it. When Castiel ran forward, cradling his friend's head in his hands, he'd thought for a heart stopping moment that Dean was dead, but the younger (figuratively speaking) man immediately jerked in Castiel's grip, rolling onto his side and coughing up a horrifying amount of blood. "Oh my God, Dean, what happened?" Castiel demanded, unable to do much more than stare with horror at his wounded friend.

"Bastard…came at me…from behind. Couldn't see him," Dean grit out, his body working already to try and heal himself but he had already been weak and therefore vulnerable, and hadn't had time to feed before being attacked. He was running on empty. "Fuck, Cas, I need…"

When Incubi are weak, they are hungry, and when they get hungry, they get very, very horny. It's how they feed, after all. It's like feeling your stomach rumbling, only instead of that discomfort, Dean was feeling sharp pangs of arousal in his gut, his body burning with the need to fuck or be fucked, and he was dry humping the cold, damp alley floor like a demented Chihuahua and didn't even have the presence of mind to stop himself.

"Dean, come on man, stay with me. What do I do?" Castiel asked, taking a hold of his friend's shoulders and rolling him onto his back. Dean choked around a mouthful of blood, turning his head to cough it up. Castiel swallowed when he saw the bullet wounds – one on the right side of Dean's chest, another just below his ribcage. Another inch up and it would have gone clean through his heart.

Dean never allowed Castiel to have a part in his life outside of staying with his best friend. Castiel had discovered Dean's true nature when he'd walked in on Dean feeding from a student from their high school – an on-again-off-again fling Dean had going. Cas had no idea.

The mosquito analogy actually works in two ways – Dean only leaves a bite, but it itches. It itches like a motherfucker and the only way to scratch it is to indulge again. And again. And again. The only way to get over an Incubus is to fuck one, and isn't that just a wonderful sense of irony?

It also makes sure there's always a food source around. It's a good evolutionary gift.

It's also the reason Dean never allowed Castiel in like that. He loved and valued his friend way too much to ever take advantage or put Castiel in that position, ever. The fact that Castiel was head over heels in love with Dean didn't make a difference – the itch will go away eventually but it's never the same after that. People who've been fed off of always have the scar. The more they scratched, the worse it is.

"Cas, I…" Dean choked again, coughing, and Castiel swallowed back a sick feeling when he watched blood pouring out of the open wounds. Hurriedly he stripped himself of his jacket and over-shirt, tearing the thin fabric of the shirt and wadding it up, stuffing it under Dean's clothing in a makeshift attempt to stop the bleeding. Dean whined when Castiel touched him, and he was burning hot.

"Do you need…someone?" Castiel asked, hating himself for asking it because he hated the knowledge that Dean had to turn to others to survive, that Castiel wasn't enough because Dean wouldn't let him be – was too afraid of himself to risk anything. Dean gave a pathetic little moan, his spine arching, pleasure coursing through him at the sound of Castiel's voice – all low and raspy and _fuck,_he was so _hungry_. "A man? A woman? Come on, Dean, help me out here."

_A man, a man, definitely a man._ Dean whined, so empty, so fucking _cold,_ so _warm,_fuck. "A…_Cas,_" he gasped out, trying to reach out and find his friend, because he was feeling weaker by the second and he was actually pretty fucking terrified by now, sure that he was going to die.

Warm fingers wrapped around his forearm and Dean _growled_, his eyes flew open and locked blurrily onto the bright blue of his friend's. Fuck, so blue, so beautiful…like, five different shades – black and large pupils…his lips, God, his lips…lovely and pink and parted a little, and he's so pretty when he's in shock when his eyes are all wide and he's got wind-burn on his cheeks and they're so prettily stained red…

Dean licked his lips, desire drying his mouth, his fingers finding Castiel's wrist and squeezing, just slightly. The light illuminating the end of the alleyway flickered and became brighter and Dean knew it was because his pupils were dilated, able to take in more light for him to see by. He tugged at Castiel's arm, his eyes dragging lustfully down his friend's body, to the lightly muscled torso hidden by the thin t-shirt Castiel had stripped down to, and down his jean-covered legs. Heat burned from Castiel as Dean's eyes changed to the silvery sheen they took on when he was about to feed, able to see where his friend burned hottest – in the centre of his chest around his heart, and between his legs.

When Dean inhaled, he could smell blood and sex. The scent and blood loss made him dizzy and he gasped, tugging weakly on his friend's arm again until Castiel leaned closer.

He'd totally intended to tell his friend what he needed – some man, any man. Dean needed a huge energy charge and the best way to get that was to suck a guy off – it went in quick and it was like drinking one of those energy shot drinks to him. His throat was dry and he couldn't put volume into his voice, so he'd intended to try and force it out, close enough so Cas could have a hope of hearing him.

But when his friend leaned closer, all Dean could feel was warmth, and his _scent_was overwhelming. Dean's lips parted in a heavy inhale and he bared his teeth, turning his head just a little so they rested against Castiel's jaw, not quite biting down. Just resting there. His breathing was ragged and it hurt to do it – Dean felt like he was about to pass out.

_So hungry._

"Cas," he half-growled, half-whined. "Please." He let go of Castiel's wrist, dragging his hand in short sharp bursts up his friend's arm, letting it drop to Castiel's hip, and thumbed over the line of Castiel's flaccid cock, feeling it start to life under his touch. The scent of arousal grew in the air – his body burned with the need to be filled. "That's it," he hissed, closing his eyes, his lips and teeth brushing against Castiel's five o'clock shadow, and he rested his forehead against Castiel's cheek, needing to conserve his strength until he managed to get Castiel up enough that he could feed.

Castiel jerked when Dean touched him, eyes widening as he looked down at his friend. Or rather, his friend's shoulder because of the way Dean was propped against him. He could feel how heavily Dean was leaning on him, how weak he must be, but he never would have thought in a million years that Dean would be weak enough, desperate enough, to go against all his morals and turn to Castiel for help.

Still, Castiel would take all that he could give Dean, because damn it, he'd been watching Dean search out other lovers for years now and he was allowed to be selfish, just this once. He let his legs fall apart and tilted his head back, biting his lower lip as Dean palmed him with rough strokes, designed for efficiency more than anything else. Still, it felt pretty fucking fantastic, even through his jeans, and Dean sighed against his neck. Castiel could feel Dean's teeth against his pulse and wondered what would happen if Dean bit him – how all this worked.

"D…Dean?" he stuttered, the name choked off by a moan as Dean flattened his palm over Castiel's erection and squeezed it lightly, and the Incubus moaned a little against Castiel's neck, feeling his pulse race under his pale skin, loving how warm and welcoming Castiel seemed to be, to him.

In another time, with less on the line, the side of Dean that made him human, that didn't make him a killer, would be screaming against this, but he was so _hungry,_and Castiel was _right there,_ and damn it, it was _Cas._ He could trust himself with Cas.

"Mmm, so responsive, Cas," Dean drawled, his voice low and rough with gravel, liquid like whiskey, sweet and dripping molasses down Castiel's spine. The Incubus chuckled, baring slightly sharpened teeth, digging them with little force into Castiel's skin, and the human jumped at the dull pain. "Wonder how that can be. Know you're not a virgin…still so, so responsive." Castiel shuddered at the feeling of Dean's blood running down his neck, staining his shirt. His friend was still bleeding out but he seemed stronger already – whatever he was doing, it was working.

Then Dean whined, the sound like a desperate, wounded animal. "Take your pants off, Cas, please. Need to suck you," he growled, and Castiel had never been so fast shedding clothing in his life, not even when he'd been cooking and accidentally lit his sleeve on fire. He slid his jeans down his legs to free his cock and Dean hummed against his shoulder, coughing a little and muffling the sound against Castiel's collarbone. It was wet and when Dean pulled away he left a blood stain behind.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, worried for his friend, cradling the back of Dean's head to try and get their eyes to meet, but Dean didn't even seem to hear him – without a word or a second of hesitance, Dean's lips were closing around Castiel's cock, sucking him down like his life depended on it (and, of course, it kind of did). Castiel gave a startled yell, bucking up his hips before he could stop himself, but Dean just moaned and took it like a pro, relaxing his throat so he could take all of Cas. He was so _hungry,_could smell the gourmet feast just waiting for him. He licked at the bundle of nerves under the head of Castiel's cock, his hand forming a tight ring around the base for Castiel to fuck into, thumbing at the thick vein, teeth scraping gently along the shaft. It was, hands down, the best blowjob of Castiel's life – so good he couldn't even find brain cells to worry about the fact that his shaft came out bloody whenever it left Dean's mouth. His friend kept swallowing and it was obvious he was trying to keep himself from coughing up blood all over Castiel.

But this was helping. Already Dean's movements were getting a little stronger. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked Castiel for all he was worth, eyes gently closed, eyelashes kissing his red-stained cheekbones, dotted with freckles that stood out against his pale skin. His lips – those perfect, fucking sinful lips that Castiel would give anything to kiss every day – were stretched so they looked almost thin around Castiel's cock, so soft and inviting when Dean spoke or licked them, when he drank and followed the motion with a casual flick of his tongue along his lower lip. It was an unconscious thing but something Castiel was always aware of. _Those_lips were currently stretched around _Castiel_ and the man couldn't even think about it. He felt his orgasm coming up thick and fast, especially when Dean's free hand curled underneath him, fingers stroking, smooth and assured, across and behind Castiel's balls, pressing and stroking and _God._

_Scent._ So much scent. Musky and heated, sweat and precome and Dean's lapping it up like a fucking kitten. Purring like one too, if the moans and vibrations against Castiel's dick were any indication.

"Dean, I -." Castiel ran a hand through Dean's hair, trying to knot his hand and tug a little but Dean's hair was too damn short and all it earned was a quiet chuckle from the creature between his legs. He tried to warn Dean that he was about to come, but nothing came out. Dean sucked on him hard, pulling up so just the head was in his mouth, and his eyes flashed open, meeting Castiel's –lust-black meeting lust-black – and Castiel lost it, letting out an inarticulate cry as his body seized, emptying into Dean's willing mouth and the Incubus sucked him all down like a baby at mother's milk, moaning like a fucking whore for it.

Dean kept sucking and lapping at Castiel's cock until the human was forced to push him away, over sensitized. They were both breathing raggedly, and Dean's eyes had closed again, blood dripping from his parted mouth. Castiel swallowed back a whimper, hand going to his neck where an imprint of Dean's teeth lay, not quite breaking skin but still definitely there.

Dean knelt up, looking much more like his usual self, and tore off his shirt. With it came Castiel's hastily-made bandages, and the human let out a relieved breath when he saw the bullet wounds beginning to heal over. He collapsed against the brick wall of the bar, sending a silent thank you up to whoever was listening that his friend hadn't died that day.

Dean's hands were shaking when he touched the bullet-scars. He looked horrified when he turned his eyes to Castiel. "Oh…" It was all he could say. There was guilt in his eyes – Castiel could easily recognize it. It was the same look Dean had had when he'd been younger, less able to control himself and his baser, animal urges – when he'd accidentally take it too far. "Oh my God, Cas…"

"Stop," Castiel demanded, holding up a hand, eyes stern. "Whatever you're thinking, stop it, alright?"

"But -."

"No. You needed me. I helped you. End of."

"Not 'end of'," Dean snapped, anger replacing the guilt now. "For fuck's sake, Cas, I bit you!"

Castiel bit his lip, putting his hand to his neck again. "Not really, no," he said, but there was no conviction in his voice, and he broke Dean's gaze to look at the ground. Figures Dean would get hung up on his own sense of morals and not look at the bigger picture. "At least you're not dead. I would do it again, and more, if it meant saving your life."

Dean blinked at him, and then crawled forward. Castiel could still smell his come on Dean, his scent all over his friend's body, feel Dean's body heat and smell his blood, but he didn't turn his head away, didn't flinch from Dean like he knew the creature expected him to. When Dean kept moving forward, plastering himself to Castiel's side, and rested his forehead against Castiel's cheek again, like before, the human stayed completely still. Like a prey animal near its hunter.

"I owe you my life," Dean whispered solemnly, and his voice was raw, fucked-out from deep-throating Castiel, and the man shuddered at the drawl of it, the Mid-Western accent coming out full-on like it tended to whenever Dean was emotional or tired or relaxed. Dean tilted his head and placed a light kiss over the imprint of his teeth. "Thank you, Cas." Then, he moved to stand.

"Where are you going?" Castiel demanded, hurriedly pulling his jeans back up, getting to his feet.

Dean swallowed, meeting his friend's dark, hard blue eyes. "To find someone," he whispered. "I still have to sate myself, Cas. I still have to feed and stuff," he said, making a dismissive kind of gesture with his hand and looking down and away, biting his lip.

"No," Castiel growled.

Dean cocked his head to one side, brow furrowed in confusion. "No?" he repeated, sounding a mix between confused, exasperated and frustrated. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean _no,_" Castiel said, stepping forward, taking a hold of Dean's arm and tugging his friend close. The creature stumbled a little, taken by surprise – he was still weak and Castiel was weirdly, stupidly strong, and so the line on who was stronger was well defined and very clearly in Castiel's favor. Dean's body collided with Castiel's, shoulder to shoulder, and the human reached behind Dean, pulling the Incubus by his other arm until Dean was back-to-chest against Castiel. He went easily, whining a little when Castiel's strong hands wrapped around his biceps and pulled, taking away Dean's leverage and allowing the creature to feel all of Castiel's warm, hard body behind him. "You don't know what it's like," Castiel growled, nudging Dean's head to one side with his jaw, snarling the words into Dean's ear; "Having to watch, knowing you're out with others, that they get to have you, and never getting to share. Fuck, Dean, I _would_share. I would get it, if you had to eat more than what I could give you. I'd fucking get it – no one can be expected to eat the same thing for the rest of his life – but _no._ You can't just use me when you're desperate, Dean. I had to watch you…Fuck, you almost_died…_"

Dean tensed, baring his teeth a little at his friend's rough, demanding voice and possessive words. He whimpered, just a little, hips bucking because he was still _hungry,_ and this was so, so wrong… "Cas, I can't," he whispered, voice rough with grief as he shook his head. "I can't…"

"You think I'll get hooked on you? Fuck, Dean, I'm already fucking hooked, you bastard," Castiel growled, turning and slamming Dean into the dirty brick wall. "I've had enough of it, of watching you walk out that door and knowing that you're going to give away something that you're not giving me. I know it might make me selfish, might make me a bad person, but _damn it,_ Dean…" He trailed off, emotion making it hard to speak, and rested his head against the back of Dean's neck, and Dean shivered at the warm breath on the back of his neck and down his spine, contrasting so beautifully with the chill, unwelcoming hardness of the brick wall he was pressed against.

Unable to help himself, he pressed back against Castiel, feeling his friend hard all over again. "This isn't you, man – this is the bite talking. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't let you do this," he gasped out, biting on the inside of his cheek, so_hungry._His body burned with the need to fuck, to _feed,_and he clenched so tightly, so empty…Castiel would fill him up so completely, so perfectly, _fuck._ "Please, Castiel, let me go."

"No," Castiel repeated stubbornly, his voice thick with barely restrained tears. Dean felt the brush of hair along the back of his neck. "No. You need someone? You got him." He ran his hands down Dean's arms, finding the man's wrists and grabbed hold, rocking himself against his friend's ass, moaning low in his throat at the delicious friction, even more so when Dean pressed back against him.

_So long,_he'd waited so long. He shoved at Dean's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and shoving them down just enough to bare Dean's ass. The material was soaked with blood, stiff as it dried, but Castiel's couldn't care – couldn't care that there were two bullets healing up inside his friend and they were covered in his drying blood. This was Dean needing_someone_and Castiel finally stepping up and delivering. His neck burned, but it _wasn't_the bite. Castiel _needed_this. He'd had enough.

"Cas." Dean's voice was desperate, more a lustful moan than anything else, eyes clenched tightly shut as he fought against his species' desire to mate, tried to think with his upstairs, human brain that knew this was a _Very Bad Idea._"Cas, please, please don't do this." He bit back a whimper when Castiel's hand snaked around his body, feather-light touches ghosting over his erection and he pressed forward into that barely-there touch, on instinct, unable to stop himself. "I don't want to hurt you. I'd die if I hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, Dean," Castiel whispered, placing a light, tender kiss to Dean's shoulder, and the Incubus shook in front of him, fingers clenching hard enough to draw blood from his palms, braced against the wall. Castiel licked his lips and closed his eyes, dragging a hand down to find Dean's pocket, knowing his friend always kept lube there for emergencies (because sometimes shit just happened, like now) and pulled it out, disgusted to find it half-empty already. Dean had only bought it three days ago.

"You dirty slut," he snarled, and Dean jerked his hips at the sound of the bottle opening, biting his gorgeous, full bottom lip to stop a whimper coming out at the sound of Castiel's voice. Castiel felt like an animal, sounded like one too, and Dean wasn't sure if the guy was going to hit him or fuck him and his body was braced for both. "You've been snacking, have you? Just givin' it away for free, to anyone Tom, Dick and Harry waltzing in off the street, I bet." Dean _did_whimper, that time, the possessive jealousy so clear in Castiel's voice, sending little vibrations down his spine. He was so _hungry._ So hungry, so turned on, that he didn't even try and move away when Castiel let go of his other wrist to concentrate on working Dean open with his slick, cold fingers. Dean spread his legs as much as he was able, which wasn't much, hobbled as he was.

He felt like a virgin filly being bred to a stallion. Mares are often hobbled during breeding to stop them kicking out of panic. With Castiel's dirty words in his ear and the anticipation of the rough sex his voice insinuated, Dean felt like that. His body trembled with the knowledge that he was weak here, and Cas was calling the shots.

"Answer me, Dean," Castiel growled, baring his teeth against Dean's shoulder as he gently pressed at Dean's hole, noticing how the creature eagerly relaxed for him, but he didn't push in. Dean hadn't earned it yet. "Come on, use your words."

Dean shook his head. "Men…no men…not like this," he gasped out, incoherent with lust, and turned his head to meet Castiel's eyes. His cheeks were beautifully stained with a blush; his lips parted so prettily, his pants so desperate. "Never the catcher, Cas."

Castiel's smile was feral. He took Dean's chin in his hands and guided the man to his lips, slanting his own over Dean's. The position forced Dean to straighten up, to rely on his shaky legs instead of the wall to hold him upright, and when Cas slid one finger smoothly inside, that proved to be even more difficult. Dean whined into his friend's – lover's? – mouth, one bloodstained hand clutching desperately at Castiel's t-shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling the human closer as Castiel circled his finger a little, crooking it to try and find that one spot…

Dean let him know when he found it – the Incubus moaned, loudly, unabashedly, spurred on because the fastest way to sate this new partner was to be vocal. With every shockwave of pleasure Castiel gifted him with, Dean lost a little bit of his human side, felt a little more out of control. Castiel pressed against his prostate mercilessly, delighting in every whimper, groan and mewl he elicited out of Dean.

When Castiel pressed in a second finger, Dean jerked in his arms, body seizing up a little at the intrusion, and he whined, biting down on Castiel's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The human growled, pushing at Dean's shoulder again and letting go of his head, instead finding a hold at the base of Dean's neck, holding him against the wall while Castiel's fingers worked on preparing him. Castiel's blood tasted of iron, rust, sex…red wine. The really good, rich stuff. Dean licked it from his own lips, hissing a little when Castiel twisted his fingers, scissoring and stretching, and _fuck,_it was starting to burn now.

"Cas, please," Dean begged, tried to, anyway – really he couldn't decide if the end result was a plea to stop or to go on. The muscles on his back played in the bad fluorescent light, shadow dipping into his spine as Dean worked, fought with himself to put a stop to it (or try to, he wasn't really sure he _could_right now) or just let it happen. "Please, stop. For me."

"I'm doing this for _us,_" Castiel growled, his hand tightening at the back of Dean's neck to the point of pain and Dean whined, clenching tightly around Castiel's fingers. "_Fuck_you're tight, like a fucking virgin. Jesus, Dean."

Dean felt Castiel's fingers pull out and whimpered, feeling so empty. _Fuck,_so empty. "Cas," he mewled pathetically – knew he sounded pathetic – and tried turning his head, but couldn't. Cas' hold kept him there as a deterrent and a warning.

He could feel Castiel shifting behind him, tried to summon up the will and strength for one last fight. "If you do this, I'm leaving. It'll be healthier. I'll pack up and hit the road and you'll never see me again," Dean said, but without conviction, because he could never leave his best friend behind – the only person who knew exactly who and what he was and still loved him for it. He couldn't leave that behind.

Castiel knew that too – Dean heard his dark laughter behind him. "I call bullshit," he replied smoothly, and then Dean felt Castiel start to breach him. He clenched up, moving his hips away, fighting his body's instinct to mate because _damn it,_he couldn't hurt Cas like this, but Castiel wasn't having any of it. His free hand curled around Dean's hip, holding him steady, and –

Oh….

_Oh._

_Fuck._

So good. So, so, _so_good. Burn, stretch, _heat._ "Fuck, Cas," Dean cried out, moving his forearm so it was braced between his head and the wall, and he bit down on his own arm, fucking himself back onto Castiel before the man had even bottomed out. _Fuck,_but this felt good, and Dean was suddenly glad that he'd never been hungry enough to try this, because this was _Cas_.

Now, Incubi don't really have romanticized views on sex – it's necessary to keep them alive. It would be like humans falling in love with a hamburger or a sheep (which apparently has been done, but still). But this was also Dean's best friend and that _meant_something. Dean whimpered, eyes falling closed, teeth drawing blood when Castiel finally stopped pushing in, unable to go further. His hands were vices on Dean's muscle and bone, gripping so hard Dean felt he would break.

He felt so damn _full._

"You still with me there, man?" Castiel asked, his voice close by Dean's ear, and the creature whimpered and nodded, rocking his hips a little, wanting to encourage Castiel to move, to feed him. Both of Castiel's hands moved to his hips, then, and the human drew back a little – Dean clenched to keep him in – before thrusting back in, building up a short, shallow rhythm that had Dean gasping against his bloodied skin, bringing up his other arm to fold over the first and rest and brace himself against.

When Castiel reached around to fist Dean's flagging erection, bringing it back to life with a few strokes of his lube-slick hand, he chuckled against Dean's shoulder. "So responsive, Dean," he said, repeating Dean's lazy, half-delirious words from before. "And so fucking tight. _God,_not gonna last long, gonna give you something to feed off of real soon – too fucking tight to believe, man, and so warm. Like a furnace."

Dean's fingers clenched tightly, feeling the warm host of Castiel's energies right behind him. It would be so easy to start taking, to start drawing it out of the human so slowly that Castiel might not even realize it until it was too late. But Dean wouldn't do that – _no._ He couldn't do that.

He whimpered when Castiel leaned over him, changing the angle and striking his prostate with every other thrust, and_fuck,_Dean really felt like an animal now, getting mounted for the first time. His legs were shaking – he felt like he was going to give out at any moment. Sweat was gathering in the dips of his muscles and evaporating in the cool night air, steam rising gently off of their bodies as Castiel fucked into him hard, getting rougher the closer he got to his climax, Castiel sweaty from arousal, Dean from restraint.

"You're _mine_now, Dean," Castiel growled into his ear, squeezing tightly around Dean's cock, twisting at the head, thumbing the vein like Dean had done for him. He thrust in against Dean's prostate and held there, rocking his hips to keep getting that stimulation for his lover. "This makes you mine, do you understand me?"

Dean whimpered again, shaking as he exploded, coming all over Castiel's hand and the brick wall. He whined – a high-pitched sound like a wounded animal – and fucked himself back on Castiel's cock, ass clenching so tight that within three more strokes the orgasm was ripped from the human, and he bared his teeth against Dean's skin as he rode out the waves, fucking and fisting his new lover until both of them were too sensitive to bear it.

The Incubus sighed, feeling Castiel's warm come fill him up, energy suddenly returning to his weak, wounded body. He felt alive and strong again, and though he should have wanted to use the new strength to hold Castiel down and demand answers of him – because seriously, what the fuck? – he didn't. He didn't want to.

Truth be told, it felt good to let go and let Castiel take the reins. Just this once.

When he turned around, Dean saw the red bite mark on Castiel's neck. It was sore-looking and brand new, the splotch of irritation spreading out almost to Castiel's shirt-line, and he bit his lip guiltily, pulling up his jeans and then fishing around for his shirt. He didn't say a word until he felt Castiel's warm hand on his spine, and turned to look at his friend.

Castiel's eyes were gentle, all harshness gone, and when he smiled it was a little sheepish. "Do you feel better now?" he asked, voice low and hesitant.

Dean couldn't help himself; "Do you?" he snapped.

Castiel stepped back like he'd been struck, and he swallowed, looking down. "Yeah," he confessed, because at least Dean knew now. At least, when the next time came (and Castiel was sure there would be one, because let's face it, there always is) he would have an excuse, and Dean wouldn't fight him as much.

Dean sighed heavily, rubbing a hand through his hair and grimacing when it meant he scraped blood through it. "So do I. Thank you for helping me, Castiel," he said solemnly, finding his shirt and putting it back on, and then took a deep breath, finally meeting his friend's eyes again. "Again, I probably owe you my life. Knowing Hunters the guy would have still been in there, waiting to finish me off." He smirked a little.

"I've never known you to be taken so by surprise like that, Dean," Castiel noted, because yeah – Dean was cautious. Really fucking cautious. He always scoped a place out before feeding. Sometimes days in advance. It wasn't like Dean to be caught unawares by anything. "I'd have thought you'd be better prepared than that. Had a better plan than that."

Dean was turned away, heading towards Castiel's car, so he didn't see Dean's little smile. "Yeah," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. He stopped by the car, catching his reflection in the passenger side window, red cheeks, swollen lips, dirt and blood all over himself, and eyes that flashed with a silver sheen. "You'd have thought."


End file.
